


the goose to your maverick

by rhysgore



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (kind of), Canon Era, Fluff, M/M, Mentioned Cuckolding, Pining, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6668605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James hasn't gotten laid in a long time. Thomas has a favor to call in. It all makes sense, except when it doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the goose to your maverick

In the end, his dignity was a small price to pay for America’s future. That being obvious, when Jefferson approached him and suggested, in a voice dripping indecently with innuendo, that perhaps for the sake of his bank he might find an alternate way to  _ service his country,  _ Hamilton had only protested for five minutes before coming to an agreement on a time and place.

When he arrived at Jefferson’s (ostentatious, of course, why should he expect otherwise) house and rapped on the door, the man appeared on the doorstep with a Jeffersonlike flourish, wearing a Jeffersonlike outfit, all before saying a very un-Jeffersonlike thing.

“Alexander! What a  _ pleasure  _ this is.” His grin was smug and full of teeth. His orange silk coat was so bright it made Hamilton’s eyes hurt to look at. Faintly, he wondered why the hell whatever powers may be had decided to give the man the twin gifts of money, and a complete absence of fashion sense. “James is waiting for you upstairs.”

The words took him by surprise. “Wait, Madison is- you're not going to-”

Jefferson raised an eyebrow, and his smile, if it were at all possible, became even more smug. 

“Oh Alexander, you wanted  _ me  _ to fuck you? I’m flattered, really, but I’m afraid my role tonight is simply that of the most attentive friend, greatest wingman, and enthusiastic observer. If James is into that.” He ushered Hamilton into the house, shutting the door behind him with a hum.

In his calmer moments, Hamilton would think more on the incredible ability of Secretary Jefferson to provoke him so thoroughly in so little time. “What the hell do you mean, ‘wingman’? This is an issue of the  _ future of our nation _ and you’re treating it like you picked me up at a bar!” 

Jefferson shrugged, silks rustling. “Bar. Congress floor. Either way, it ends with you on your knees. Oh, and just a word of warning? James hasn’t gotten any in quite a while. Hope you don’t have to walk anywhere important tomorrow.” He flashed another grin, pearly white and insufferable.

“You're disgusting,” Hamilton replied, through gritted teeth. He’d agreed to this proposition expecting Jefferson, he’d prepared for Jefferson, and this… it was a curveball, definitely, but one he could deal with. At least Madison was more likely to keep his mouth shut during the act.

(Although if Madison wanted to kiss, he could forget it. Tuberculosis, regardless of the situation, was always a turnoff.)

Jefferson tsked as he led Hamilton, ascending the stairs in a manner which could only properly be described with the word “flouncing”. “Come now. We’re all adults here. I expect you to be at least  _ somewhat _ civil.” As Hamilton passed the other man, he could feel Jefferson leering at his backside.

_ Sure,  _ he thought.  _ Civility.  _

At the top of the stairs, Jefferson took a left and passed through a set of doors no more or less opulent and ridiculous than everything else that the man seemed to own. Inside, Madison was reclining on a couch, dressed far more reasonably than Jefferson. Hamilton breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way he would be able to get through this in a way that either Democrat would deem satisfactory if Madison had taken any fashion tips from his friend.

As Hamilton was adjusting to his surroundings, Jefferson crossed the room in a few steps, clapping Madison on the shoulder.

“He’s all yours. Try not to break him. At least, not  _ too _ badly.”

Madison laughed softly. “Thank you, Thomas, but this isn’t my first time. He’ll be fine.”

A look of something flashed over Jefferson’s face. Hamilton was just barely able to catch it before it disappeared.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” The secretary stepped out of the room with exactly the same amount of unnecessary drama as he’d entered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Leaving Hamilton and Madison alone.

There was a moment of awkward silence between them. Hamilton fidgeted.

“So.”

“Come here,” Madison replied, gesturing towards the couch.

It was easy to forget, mostly due to Madison being very short and frequently bedridden, the power and authority that lay behind the man. Although he was never nearly as loud or flashy as Jefferson, he was shrewd and intelligent, calculating, and merciless. 

It was also easy to forget the power and authority the man possessed when he was clearly struggling to keep his voice level, and his entire body was shaking like a leaf.

Hamilton raised an eyebrow as he sat at the other end of the couch, allowing Madison to nudge his legs open and feel up his thighs. His hands were trembling.

“Uh. Are you alright?” Not that he particularly cared for the wellbeing of James Madison, but fucking him would definitely be  _ not _ fun and  _ not _ productive if he had a breakdown mid-coitus.

Madison glared at him. “I’m perfectly alright, thank you. Start undressing.” Despite the affirmation, he was still shaking, fist clenching and unclenching on his knee as he watched Hamilton remove first his waistcoat, then the shirt underneath. His other hand felt cold and clammy when it came up to rest on the flare of Hamilton’s hip.

“Are you sure, man? You seem nervous.” Madison squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply. His hand fell from it’s place at Hamilton’s waist, and he seemed to come sort of decision.

“Get up. Take your clothes, and go stand outside. Tell Thomas to come in,” he barked, sitting back. Hamilton was thoroughly confused, but did as he was told, for once in his life deciding to refrain from commenting. He slipped back into his shirt, and exited with the perfect mix of haste and dignity.

Outside, Jefferson was leaning against the wall, trying his hardest to act like he wasn’t attempting to listen in. When he saw Hamilton, his face twisted into an expression of amusement, a thin veneer over the confusion beneath.

“Well, your ass must be damned special to have made James come already,  _ while _ remaining clothed,” he drawled. “He’s gonna make me jealous. Either that, or he does like people watching after all.  _ Kinky.”  _ There was a level of affection in his voice that Hamilton chose to ignore.

“Madison wants to talk to you,” he said, pointing over his shoulder with a thumb. “Not that it’s any of my business or that I care, at all, but he seems kind of upset.” Surprisingly enough, Jefferson didn't respond to the not-too-subtle dig other than to hurry back into the room, shutting the door behind him firmly.

Hamilton eyed the door. Yes, he didn't particularly give a shit about either of the men in that room, and yes, it was definitely none of his business whatever was eating Madison, but… damnit. Trying to convince himself that his reason for doing so was to gain a possible political advantage, Hamilton knelt down and pressed an ear to the keyhole.

“-something that you're not telling me, James?” Jefferson’s voice, filled with concern that Hamilton had never heard before from him. “It's okay if you don't want to, but if even Hamilton is expressing worry…”

He heard Madison suck in a breath. “Thomas, first of all thank you for doing this to me. It's been a long time without… well, you know. And you could've asked for anything, but you asked for something for my sake.”

“What are friends for, if not getting your worst political enemies into bed with you?” Both men laughed, and Hamilton rolled his eyes, faintly disgusted. He hadn't even been given a bed.

“But the thing is… I can't, Thomas.”

“Huh?”

Madison sounded uncomfortable. “As much as I’d love to fuck that thorn in our side into submission, I can't.”

“Why not? Are you sick?”

“Not this week.”

“Then- oh god, you're not  _ straight _ , are you?” Hamilton covered his mouth, stifling a laugh. As if.

“Thomas, how long have you known me?” There was an increasing level of frustration in Madison’s voice, hiding a faint tremor behind the words.

“Fair enough. What else could it be, then? Is he-”

“I’m in love with someone.”

Well.

Silence from both rooms ensued. From Hamilton, it was anticipatory. From Jefferson, it was shocked. And from Madison, it was still nervous. For his part, Hamilton pressed closer to the door, shifting around on his knees. One of his legs was falling asleep.

“I didn’t know.” Jefferson sounded legitimately contrite. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, absent of his usual flourishes.

“Yeah, I know you don’t. I didn’t tell you on purpose, because…” There was a hefty pause, and the sound of breathing, presumably as Madison gathered whatever courage he needed to confess. “Thomas… it’s you.”

And Hamilton had thought that  _ his _ tastes could sometimes run afoul. 

Madison was attempting to backtrack. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t appropriate. I can-”

_ “James.”  _

It was at this point that Hamilton was at once angry and glad that through the crack he couldn’t see anything above either man’s knees. He did, however, see Jefferson take a step closer to Madison, who leaned backwards just slightly. And he heard the soft, wet sound of a kiss. And then another. And another.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he murmured to himself, more offended than he probably should have been about the fact that the two men had dragged him out of his house to fuck him, only to completely ignore him in favor of making out like a pair of teenagers.

Luckily, neither Jefferson nor Madison heard him.

“James, god, why didn’t you  _ say anything? _ You have no idea  _ how long-” _

“I just  _ assumed, _ I mean that  _ girl, _ and-” 

They were breathless, stumbling to get out sentences and interrupting each other with kisses. The feet in Hamilton’s line of sight stepped over one another out of his view, and Hamilton heard a soft  _ thud _ as two bodies landed on what he presumed was the couch, followed by the sound of more kissing.

He stood up, and opened the door a crack to peek his head in. Jefferson was lying back on the couch, letting Madison crawl up him to undo his cravat.

“Uh. I’m gonna go. That alright?” Hamilton asked, half sarcastic, half mortified. Jefferson cast a glare in his direction.

“Do whatever you want- ah,  _ James.” _ The noise he made as Madison, having managed to divest him of the silly lace garment, sucked and bit at the join of his shoulder and neck was enough to scurry Hamilton out the door. His only solace, as he stepped out of the house trying desperately to erase that image from his head, was that whenever he next saw Jefferson, was that he’d know about the multiple hickeys underneath the man’s absurd sartorial choices. He hoped that Jefferson would be the one to get tuberculosis in his stead.

*

The next congressional meeting was in a few days. A few days where Hamilton didn’t hear from either Jefferson or Madison. A few days spent in tenseness as he waited to see what the results of his sort-of business deal were. When he stumbled into the halls of Congress, he was running on even less sleep than usual, and praying that it didn’t show too much.

“Hamilton.” As the other men assembled, Jefferson (walking, Hamilton noted with some amusement, with a not unnoticeable limp) beckoned him to the side of the room. Once they were out of earshot of the others, he spoke. “You have my support for the bank.”

Hamilton’s eyebrows went up at least an inch, both in relief, and in disbelief. “What, you’re not going to try and extort me again? You’re losing your touch, Jefferson.”

“First of all, I would hardly call our deal ‘extortion’,” Jefferson immediately retorted, then sighed. “And second of all, no. You’ve repaid your debt. Even if it wasn’t in the way you intended. You gave Virginia the capitol, and…” He hesitated, casting his eyes to the side. Hamilton followed his gaze, and was unsurprised to see Madison, with a subdued smile on his face that neatly straddled the line between smugness and adoration. “You… gave me James.” Jefferson turned back to face him, and the look on his face was more genuine than any Hamilton had ever seen him give. A smile of honest happiness tugged the corners of his lips up. “Thank you.”

“Whoa, hold on a second. Wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re actually a decent person sometimes, on rare occasions.” Hamilton raised his hands in mock surprise.

“And we wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re capable of reading the mood either, it seems.” Jefferson’s look was immediately replaced by one of eye-rolling sarcasticness, and he turned around to head back. “Come on. They’re starting, and we wouldn’t want all this difficult negotiation to count for nothing. Right?”

 

_ If getting a boyfriend is what you consider _ difficult, _ I’d love to see an easy day for you, _ Hamilton wanted to shoot back. Despite himself, he chose not to. The day- and the entire week so far- had been treating them all well so far. If all of America’s decisions could be made as easily as this one, the burgeoning country’s future had nothing to fear.

**Author's Note:**

> past presidents of your country doin' it? $5. obligatory "top gun" reference? $20. walking into your history classroom every day and feeling the judging eyes of dead white guys staring at you while you contemplate the choices that have led you to this point in your life? priceless.
> 
> and although it's mostly video games, you can still say hi to me on my tumblr, @rhysgore


End file.
